Girls and Boys In School
by The Aluminum Monster
Summary: "It's amazing how fast the years go by. It seems like just yesterday we were 4th graders, having fun and messing around like little dumbasses. Flash forward seven years and here we all are, dragging our feet through the awkward hell storm known as adolescence." Stan/Kyle, Cartman/Wendy, Kenny/Bebe, and some minor Stan/Wendy.


Girls and Boys In School

Summary: "It's amazing how fast the years go by. It seems like just yesterday we were 4th graders, having fun and messing around like little dumbasses. Flash forward seven years and here we all are, dragging our feet through the awkward hell storm known as adolescence." Stan/Kyle, Cartman/Wendy, Kenny/Bebe, and some minor Stan/Wendy.

A/N: Well shit. It's been a pretty damn long while since I've posted any fanfiction. Two years, I believe. Well here's another story. I can't say that I'll be posting chapters often, for I'm very inconsistent when it comes to updating, but just try to hang in there. I'll do the best that I can. I know the Kenny/Bebe pairing isn't the most popular, but I've always been a fan, and I'm forcing all of you to give it a chance. That being said, Stan/Kyle is the primary, most focused pairing in this story, and Cartman/Wendy plays a pretty big role too, so if Kenny/Bebe isn't your cup of tea, stick with it for those.

Chapter One: Life As We Know It

_Kyle's POV_

It's amazing how fast the years go by. Everybody always told me that growing up, but I never listened to them. Everything adults tell you as kids is bullshit anyways, so why would I have any reason to believe that over every other piece of shit lie they told me?

When I fell asleep as a 10 year old and woke up as a 17 year old, that's when. (Figuratively speaking, of course. This isn't some indie spinoff of "13 Going On 30" from the point of view of a 30-something hipster).

It seems like just yesterday we were 4th graders, having fun and messing around like little dumbasses. Flash forward seven years and here we all are, dragging our feet through the awkward hell storm known as adolescence.

It's not all bad; nobody's tried to shoot up the school (there was one bomb scare freshmen year, but it turned out to be a backpack full of beer in the student parking lot), there have been no reported suicide attempts, and no member of our student body has joined the cast of "Teen Mom" yet.

I think we're all doing pretty well for ourselves, if I don't say so myself.

A lot has changed over the past seven years. Stan and Wendy have broken up and gotten back together a total of six times (they're currently together again, but my records show that they're due for another breakup soon) and Cartman had the growth spurt of a lifetime and now stands at a whopping six foot four. He decided somewhere around 8th grade to start working out so he could gain the body to compliment his height, and it's definitely served him well over the years.

Cartman has taken full advantage of his physique and became the first string linebacker on the football team. In addition to his football player status, his height combined with his muscles and newly defined facial features have made him quite a target with his fellow female classmates.

When he first started playing football, he pretended like he did it because he wanted to and not just because everyone told him to, but it was pretty damn obvious that he hated it. After his first game, once everyone told him how amazing he was, football suddenly became his life. He's still pretty much the most hated member of the team (and probably one of the most hated people in the school), but with his undeniable football skills, he can afford not to be nice.

Stan decided to ditch football after seventh grade and moved onto more musical, artistic endeavors. The guitar has since become his real love, and he spends most of his time writing songs and performing cover songs at the school's open mic nights. When he doesn't have a guitar (or Wendy) in his arms, he draws. He doesn't show his drawings to anybody but me. Not even Wendy has seen them. They're phenomenal, but personal. He doesn't want people knowing he's more emotional than he seems.

Of course, no group of friends is complete without the ever-so-needed troublemaker.

Enter Kenny.

Kenny likes to party. He smokes a pack of cigarettes a day, he drinks constantly, he deals weed, he has sex on a regular basis, and he's tried almost every drug once.

Somewhere around 7th grade, Kenny truly discovered what it meant to be sexually active, and took full advantage of his looks and sexual abilities. Through 8th and 9th grade he spent most of his time working on "special trades" with girls. A gram of weed or a water bottle full of vodka was worth five bucks and a hand job. Two grams or two bottles was ten bucks, a blowjob and a hand job. Any more that and you gave Kenny McCormick full permission to have his way with your vagina.

He gave up on his trades when he found out a girl had lied about her age and that he had accidentally banged an 11 year old when he was 15.

Rumor upon rumor circulates the hallway, with the words "Kenny McCormick is a sex addict" being six of the most common. Anybody who knows him knows it's not true. He has an addictive personality, but he has enough self-control to prevent himself from reaching the point of actually being dubbed an addict.

The kid is pretty much certifiably insane. But we wouldn't dump him for the world. He might drive us crazy, make stupid sex jokes, and constantly talk about his penis, but he's always there when you need him and he always listens.

Stan and I don't party. Usually the two of us hang out on weekends and play videos games, watch movies and go to the mall to make fun of middle schoolers. Cartman, on the other hand, likes to follow in Kenny's footsteps, so Cartman and Kenny usually cross paths on the weekends. When Stan and I's weekend nights aren't dedicated to each other (or in Stan's case, Wendy), they're dedicated to rescuing a drunken Kenny and/or Cartman from a party and letting them crash at our places.

This has been occurring far too long for us to find it annoying anymore.

As for me…well, I went down the intellectual route. Not necessarily by my own choice, but more to satisfy my parents desires. I'm currently enrolled in as many AP classes as the school allows me to take, am class vice-president, president of the debate team, first in the class, a member of the school band, and run the light board for school plays. Pile four to five hours' worth of homework on top this, and you've got yourself a kid who's on the road to Ivy League. That's how my parents see it, anyways. The busier I am, the more successful I'll be.

The only thing that still keeps me going and still makes me think I have a reason to give a shit anymore is Stan. He's the only person I can vent to, the only person that listens to me, the only person I can actually still be myself around. He's the only one I have left that still understands me.

One of Cartman's favorite pastimes is making gay sex jokes about Stan and I, but he's been calling us "pillow-biters" and "butt-pirates" for so long, nobody laughs anymore (much to his chagrin).

But even despite some people thinking Stan and I are a couple, and being called a fag every time I look at Cartman, Stan is still the only person I look forward to seeing anymore and the only person I still actually give a fuck about.

So that's the way it is, and that's the way it's been since we started high school. Perfectly average, but far from normal.

It was a Thursday, and we were all at "our table" at lunch. Stan and I were seated next to each other with Cartman and Kenny across from us. Butters usually sits next to Cartman (he left school early today due to a panic attack he suffered during third period) and sometimes one of the others guys like Clyde or Token will join us.

Wendy sits with us most of the time and Bebe used to until she and Kenny went through a rough break up after dating for two years. The dumbass screwed up and fucked a girl from North Park while he was on E at a party.

Bebe didn't exactly take that too well.

It's impossible for them to even look at each other without a reality TV worthy screaming match occurring.

Today is just like any other day. Cartman is making racist, insensitive, politically incorrect jokes and bitching about teachers and Kenny is either laughing at what he says or making lewd comments about whatever attractive girl walks by.

Stan and I are just making small talk, eating our lunches and avoiding the day-to-day comedy routine that's happening next to us.

"Now THAT is some hot shit. Tits molded by the fucking gods themselves. Not even a question as to whether or not I'd tap that."

"You mean you haven't already?" Stan stated passively, unscrewing the cap off of his water bottle before taking a swig.

Kenny leaned over the table slightly, attempting to get a closer look at the brunette that had just sauntered by our table. "That's debatable."

"So you've finally reached the point where you've stopped trying to remember which girls you've fucked?" I asked.

"I think I gave up somewhere after Heidi Turner."

Stan looked up. "Wasn't that freshmen year?"

Kenny grinned. "Yep."

"Please, you gave up after your 5th fucking blowjob." Cartman piped in before taking a bite of his cheeseburger.

Kenny shook his head. "No way. I stopped trying to remember girls after I stopped the trades and just started screwing them. I distinctly remember every girl that put her mouth on my dick."

"Fuck you, no you don't."

"Remind me again, exactly how many times have you had your dick sucked?"

Cartman punched the blond. "Fuck off, douchebag! Not all of us pass our dick around like a game of fucking hot potato!"

"Still doesn't justify why you've never received head." I added.

He swung his head around to face me. "And you have, Jewface?"

I blushed. Both he and Kenny's gazes were directed towards me. Usually Stan didn't engage in these dumbass endeavors, but I noticed that his blue eyes had lingered upwards towards me.

He wanted an answer just as much as the other two.

He shouldn't care, because he knows he would be the first person I would tell if I hooked up with or had sex with someone. Besides, what's it to him if some girl sucks my dick? He's my best friend, not my ex.

I shook my head. I didn't have time to play games with Cartman. "Go to hell." Was all I could muster before turning back to my sandwich.

Cartman grinned. "I knew it. Virgin bitch."

"Shut up." I mumbled.

"You've never even made out with anybody, have you?"

"Fuck off."

"Awkward fuck. 20 bucks says you won't get laid for another ten years."

"Jesus Cartman, lay off him!" Stan's voice rang through my ears.

I wasn't surprised that he came to my defense. He did that a lot. It wasn't that I wasn't capable of fighting my own battles or defending myself, Stan just always beat me to it.

OK, yeah, maybe there is a part of me that lets him do it too. Maybe there's a part of me that really likes it when he defends me. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel like somebody cares.

And maybe I just really like that feeling.

Cartman's grin turned devious. "Lay off of him? Because I believe you're the one who wants to lay ON him, Stanley."

"Ladies and gentleman, there you have it, your daily gay joke." Kenny stated with a clap of his hands.

"I like to call it your daily dose of truth, actually."

"So, former fat ass," Kenny began, quickly changing the subject. "You never answered my question. How many people have sucked your limp dick?"

"My dick isn't limp, jackass."

"So I'm sure lots of chicks have sucked it. Please, share."

He didn't respond.

"Yep, that's what I thought."

Just as Cartman opened his mouth with what was surely a creatively inappropriate retort, Wendy's voice was chiming in over him.

"Hey guys!" She ran up behind Stan, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. "Hey sweetie."

Stan smiled weakly, placing his hand on top of Wendy's. "Hey."

"What's up?"

We all exchanged glances.

Kenny was the first to reply. "Well I would say Cartman's dick, but it's pretty limp."

Almost instantly, Cartman turned a shade of red that I didn't think the human flesh was capable of turning and sent a glare Kenny's way.

Wendy giggled. "And how's that conversation going?"

"How any conversation in which Cartman's penis is the object of interest goes." I said.

"My dick is fine. There's nothing wrong with it. Kenny's just a cunt."

"I believe that was Cartman's way of inviting you into his pants, Wendy."

Wendy's smile faded and she let out a quiet, awkward laugh. "Thanks but no thanks."

Cartman didn't speak.

"Come with me to my history class? I need to pick something up from my teacher." Wendy asked, resting her chin on the top of Stan's head.

"Right now?" He asked, his eyes moving quickly from me to the arms draped around his neck.

"Yeah. Why, you busy?"

His eyes wandered back to me again.

"Well I…uh, no. No. No, we can go now. Sure."

He stood up, picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He grabbed the remains of his lunch, balling it up and tossing it into the trash from where he was standing. He never lost his athleticism.

"Hey, Kyle," I looked up. "Wanna hang out tonight? It's been a while."

I smiled. "Yeah. Yeah that'd be cool, man."

He returned the smile. A warm, heart-stopping smile that sent chills through my body and made my stomach flip in a way that I wish wasn't because my _best friend_ smiled at me.

"Great. I'll text you later dude."

"Later." I nodded in his direction as he and Wendy exited the cafeteria.

I turned back around and was greeted to the sight of Cartman sending a vicious glare Kenny's way.

"Fuck you." He grumbled.

Kenny shrugged. "She's gonna find out sooner or later."

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Oh I'm sorry, were you invited into this conversation?"

"What conversation? You each said one thing."

"Shut up, retard!"

"Eric Cartman, champion subject-changer." Kenny chimed in.

"I don't really know if swearing until someone gets annoyed is champion worthy, but it works every time, so I'll give him that."

"But since you reminded me, going back to that subject…"

Kenny's head was met with a vicious slap. "Shut the fuck up! We're not talking about this, especially not in front of _him."_ He scowled, gesturing towards me.

I shook my head. "Look I really don't care what secrets you're keeping from me dumbass, we're not in 4th grade anymore. It's not any of my business if you have a gay ass crush on someone."

"Sure you're not getting my confused with you and Stanny boy, Ginger?"

"Why are you so convinced that Stan and I are in love?"

"Love? Well if you say so. I was just under the impression you two were taking it up the ass from each other, but if you say it's love…"

I rolled my eyes and stood up, grabbing my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder. "You're fucking relentless. It's pathetic. I'll see you later, Ken." I said, gathering the scraps of my lunch and making my way towards the trash.

"Have fun sucking Stan's dick tonight!" Cartman tossed back at me, chuckling.

I flipped him off before leaving the cafeteria.

So I would go to my class early and wait there awkwardly until lunch was over. I would think about every dumbass comment Cartman made and analyze them to shit because _God damn_ if there wasn't just the slightest bit of truth in every one.

Not that Stan and I are actually having sex or sucking each other's dicks on the regular, but we might as well be. With the amount of time we spend together (not to mention the amount of time we spend alone in each other's bedrooms) you'd think we would have somehow fallen into the indie movie stereotype of "curious, confused 14 year old boys make out and give each other shitty hand jobs to test their feelings and toy with their budding sexuality".

But alas, Stan and I have knocked down every stereotype and have never laid a finger on each other's privates.

I don't think I have feelings for Stan. I think if I did, I would have acted on them by now. But then again, I've never had a girlfriend and I've never been kissed, so if my track record is any indication of how well I am with handling feelings and relationships, I could be hopelessly masturbating to the thought of Stan and I fucking instead of actually fucking him for the rest of my life.

Not that that's something I masturbate to! Not usually, anyways. Even when I do it's not because I have a thing for Stan. Am I attracted to him? Maybe a little. But it's normal for teenage boys to fantasize about their guy friends sometimes. It's just hormones and curiosity and shit.

It's totally normal. I Googled it.

I don't think there is a word or a phrase to define me and Stan's relationship. Weird. Kind of gay. Fucked up. Not normal for two 17 year old boys.

It is what it is. It'll always be the same. Me, thinking about him during 85% of my day, wanting to spend all of my time with him, getting butterflies in my stomach when he smiles at me, desperately jerking off to the thought of him.

And him. Standing right next to me, holding his girlfriend's hand and remaining totally clueless to all of it.

I hated thinking about our relationship. About our friendship. About him. It stressed me out and brought an entirely different set of concerns to the table. Concerns that I wasn't ready to, and didn't want to deal with.

I tried to push him out of my mind and focus on my stats work.

But the jerk just kept creeping his way back into my mind, and suddenly bar graphs became Stan Marsh and his stupid guitar.

And Goddam if that thought didn't turn me on.

Fuck.

_End of Chapter 1_


End file.
